


where the sun never sets

by regret_not



Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Vampire, M/M, Unrequited Love, World Travel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-24
Updated: 2019-12-24
Packaged: 2021-02-25 23:29:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 20,373
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21883780
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/regret_not/pseuds/regret_not
Summary: “Our kind don’t do well with things that aren’t constant,” Renjun murmurs. He doesn’t mean to be unkind, but is simply stating the truth; like the sun rising in the east every morning, like the earth spinning on its axis without fail, like how every object that tries to leave the confines of gravity kisses the ground at 9.8 meters per second squared.
Relationships: Huang Ren Jun/Lee Donghyuck | Haechan
Comments: 6
Kudos: 68
Collections: ’00 FIC FEST: ROUND ONE





	where the sun never sets

**Author's Note:**

> for prompt #00100!
> 
> dear prompter: i hope you don't mind that i ran away with the idea and took way too many creative liberties :') i'm sure that this wasn't what you had in mind, but hopefully it is a pleasant surprise!
> 
> for my purposes, in this universe, apart from being immortal and the mere fact of needing blood to survive, there's really nothing special about vampires :-) for the sake of my sanity (and mostly to make my life easier)
> 
> fair warning: a bit of existentialism and a kind of cynical view of the 'mundaneness' of human life somewhere in there. sorry!

_Montreal, Canada_

“Renjun.”

Autumn finds Montreal in a state of colorful festivity; golden yellow, sunset orange, orchard red, specks of bright green dabbled in between, all clinging onto the branches for dear life — the hallmark of a fast-approaching fall.

And how appropriate it is for this season to be called fall, for it is the very time of year Renjun first came to terms with the fact that he fell for his best friend.

(He isn’t one for theatrics or poetic significance, but he indulges himself this once in the symbolic irony.)

In Canada, it’s almost Thanksgiving. October means the scent of pumpkin spice lingers in the air of every cafe imaginable, and although Renjun is really not a fan, Donghyuck has been looking forward to the seasonal beverages since September. So autumn also finds the two of them sitting in a typical Starbucks on a Sunday afternoon, each nursing a ridiculously overpriced coffee. 

Donghyuck has his laptop open in front of him, madly clacking away at his god-awful Apple keyboard, a piece of croissant hanging from the corner of his mouth. He chews absent-mindedly, typing a sentence more before he pauses, shoves the remaining pastry into his mouth, and looks up at Renjun expectantly. 

“Renjun!” 

“Yes, yes,” he turns away from watching Donghyuck’s reflection in the glass window, fixing a bored and disinterested expression onto his face. He does love watching Donghyuck squirm.

He expects Donghyuck to huff, throw croissant crumbs at him maybe, but instead Donghyuck beams, dusting his hands together before spinning his laptop around with all the grandeur of a chef showing off a meticulously-plated dish. He squints at the screen, trying to see through the glare.

“Europe?”

He can’t keep the incredulity out of his voice. The two of them move around often, sure, never staying in a place for too long lest they blow their cover, but it’s only been three years inching towards four in Canada, and they still have many years left before they have to uproot and go into hiding elsewhere. Besides, they haven’t ever ventured into the other side of the world just yet. Europe seems a bit drastic.

“Yeah, dimwit, are your ears losing their hearing ability? You haven’t even hit middle-aged yet, you’re only like, five hundred,” Donghyuck laughs, amused at his own joke. He arches an eyebrow over at Renjun and repeats, “Europe.” 

“No, but,” Renjun sighs for what feels like the upteenth time, by and far used to Donghyuck’s antics, but still inevitably tired out by them. “Why?”

Donghyuck shrugs, eyes not dimming a bit. He seems to have expected the question, even anticipated it. 

“Why not?” He shoots back at Renjun, mischievous grin softening to allow excitement to shine through. 

“We’ve got all the time in the world to kill, why not?”

🌅

And so, that is how Renjun finds himself halfway across the world in an unfamiliar country, his life’s belongings packed into suitcases, Donghyuck chattering excitedly beside him.

All on a spur of the moment decision, because Renjun has always been weak to Donghyuck, and who was he to say no?

_Vaalserberg, The Netherlands_

“Why,” Donghyuck pants, “the hell are we,” here his voice cuts off, broken up by a gasp of air and a noisy exhale, “ —hiking up a godforsaken hill at five in the morning!” 

Renjun only huffs a pitiful excuse of a laugh in response, being short of breath himself and not entirely sure he should be expending air on anything other than breathing. If he tried to talk, he probably wouldn’t be much better, and he’s not about to grant Donghyuck the satisfaction.

They slow to a stop at a stretch of flattened ground, the steep hill plateauing into a makeshift rest stop, thousands of tourists’ feet trampling the grass into a natural pathway. Their shoes kick up little dust storms in the air, golden specks of dirt stirring in the wind.

They catch their breath, Donghyuck leaning over with both his hands planted on his knees while Renjun downs half of his water bottle in one breath. When his throat ceases to burn from the effort of gulping in lungfuls of air, he turns around to survey the surrounding landscape. 

They’re currently about 200 meters off the ground, as the tourist sign planted beside their temporary rest station cheerily informs them, a red star marking that they are three quarters of the way up their trek onto the steep hill of Vaalserberg. To Renjun, they might as well be a mile away, because it’s supposedly a “hill”, but then why do his calves already ache as if he had participated in a five kilometre walk rather than one-fifth of that? 

Once Renjun is sure that his mouth no longer emulates a desert, his tongue no longer parched as sandpaper, he responds to Donghyuck’s unanswered question. “I don’t know, who was it who wanted to see the sunrise?” 

Donghyuck pauses in his ministrations of wiping his brow with a damp handkerchief, shooting a look over his shoulder, dagger-sharp. “Alright bloodsucker, shut the hell up. I didn’t hear you complaining when I proposed the idea. It’s not my fault neither of us are morning people.”

“More like, not the exercise type.” Renjun mutters under his breath. 

“I’m in tip-top shape,” Donghyuck snarks back, though his flushed cheeks and the sweat beading at his hairline hardly help his case. “You’re the one being left behind in the dust.” 

“We’ll see about that,” he challenges, straightening up and re-adjusting the shoulder straps of his bag. 

They set out again with newfound determination, scaling up the tiny hill that The Netherlands once boasted to be their highest point. Or, the highest point that is at least accessible by humans.

As they make their way up the incline, the landscape spread out beneath them becomes smaller and smaller, the little houses gradually dwindling in size until they are miniature figurines, lost in the distance. They look scarcely more than little dots of reds and browns embedded in a sea of green.

From up here, the little people busy leading fleeting, transient lives are nothing more than ants — no, dust. They transform into spots before they disappear entirely, vanishing in the tapestry of the rolling hills. Insignificant, overlooked.

For some reason, instead of giving him comfort, this sight makes his heart twinge. Usually, he is at peace when faced with the fact that he is but an insignificant, miniscule mark in the grand scheme of things. 

After all, a feather doesn’t make a splash in an ever-moving, flowing current, does it?

He doesn’t cower from the reality that in the wide, ever-expanding threads of the universe, he will be but a speck of dust. He is comfortable with that.

Somehow, today, that comfort seems to have abandoned him. 

The deep purple of the sky, of a slumbering sun yet to rouse from its sleep, casts long shadows around them. In the far distance, at the opposite end of the sky, the moon lies, tranquil, calm, at ease. 

He feels unbearably small, like he could vanish right here, right now, and there’d be no proof left of his existence. His footprints, too, would be blown away in the wind, and it would be as if he were but the ashen remains of a wildfire.

He glances at the boy beside him, breathing, huffing and puffing, and very much alive. What of him? Is he too, only destined to return to dust?

🌅

Just as the scarce beams of the sun’s light begin emerging from the eastern sky, they arrive at the top of the hill.

The spot itself is nothing impressive; there is a piece of stone planted in a stretch of cobbled ground, three colorful, proud flags erected behind it, like its personal guard.

“So this is where the three countries meet?” Donghyuck looks a bit skeptical, eyeing the stone inscribed with foreign words. 

Renjun stares at the inconspicuous-looking little landmark, feeling his heart stir at the sight. This insignificant little slab of stone? Representing the meeting point of three countries’ borders? The three flags stuck into the ground behind it say as much, but the significance of what it symbolizes isn’t lost on him.

He feels very much the same, except instead of being a convergence, a place of peace, he feels like he is standing at a fork in the roads, each of them pulling him towards them. 

He is being torn apart as he is being tugged in three directions.

He could be selfish; be the common man, and tell Donghyuck how he feels. Burden him with his feelings, gathered and scored over years, scarred so deeply into his existence that he does not know what he’d be without Donghyuck. 

He could continue his charade to continue staying by Donghyuck’s side; only if he locks his heart and swallows the key. It would save them the earthquake, save him the heartbreak, save Donghyuck the obligation. He would go to his grave carrying this secret. Dust to dust.

Or he could leave; rescue himself from the depths before he drowns himself in delusional hope. Set out on a lifeboat and allow the world’s tides to carry him far, far away from his desires. Distance might make his heart yearn, but at least he would be able to breathe. Time numbs all pain, and he’s sure he could forget. 

Would it be selfish to leave to save himself?

These ultimatums spin around in his head, a pendulum swinging endlessly.

“Renjun!”

He turns his head at the call, looking towards Donghyuck who beckons him closer with a wave and a smile.

He stamps the thought out; he has no place to be selfish here.

Renjun has no qualms making the decision, even if his traitorous heart does. 

Donghyuck clearly hadn’t dwelled long at all at what was supposed to be the main attraction, far more concerned with the reason they were up on this very hill at this particular hour.

He gestures urgently with his arm, whispering, “Hurry up!”

He responds to the summon, stepping forward just as the first glorious rays of the sun begin to creep over the edge of the horizon. It’s like the world is finally set in motion, an inertia of the night stirring to life in the sun’s presence.

He chances a peek at his companion, turning his head just barely. He feels his breath catch.

Donghyuck is beaming, facing the sun directly, and even in the still-lingering darkness of the night, he glows, emitting his own light.

He stares, committing the moment to memory in all its photographic glory — the sun setting his auburn hair aflame, the wind rustling through the mess of bangs on his forehead, and the sight that makes his heart twinge the most: the face-splitting grin, wild and unrestrained, wreaking havoc on his weak, weak heart. 

Watching the sun spill its golden rays over the emerald hills, touching the top of each grassy summit with a curious, gentle finger, Renjun doesn’t fear being blinded. For when Donghyuck turns to look at him, bringing the full force and brilliance of a thousand splendid suns, Renjun knows that in the center of his universe, Donghyuck will always be his star, and he, a moon forever in orbit, happily, willingly revolving around him.

_Seoul, Korea_ \- Then

“I’m sorry!” 

“No, it was my bad,” Renjun rushes to apologize, whirling around and crouching down immediately to help pick up the dropped items spilling out of the tote bag strewn over the ground. He feels a rush of shame, having been so caught up in his thoughts that he didn’t even bother paying attention to his surroundings.

A warm laugh sounds, a hand reaching out to stall his frantic movements. “It’s alright, it happens to all of us.”

Renjun raises his gaze, meeting eyes with the stranger. The stranger is adjusting his baseball cap back on — which must have gotten knocked off in their collision — covering a head of curly hair and pulling it down over his eyes. It casts a shadow over his face, but Renjun can make out the stranger’s hazel eyes, glinting with mirth. He can’t help but notice the smattering of moles scattered across the curve of his cheek, spilling down onto his neck, musing to himself that the beauty marks are quite flattering on the stranger’s tan skin. 

Renjun must look startled, for the stranger immediately withdraws his hand closer to his body, hand still outstretched but now a polite distance away, offering his hand in the universal gesture of a handshake. 

“I’m Donghyuck,” the stranger grins, pearly white teeth flashing in the dimming dusk light. 

Renjun blinks uncomprehendingly, before realizing his lack of response couldn’t be described as anything else but rude, and quickly shifts the books in his arms to one hand to hastily stick his hand into the stranger’s grasp, squeezing briefly before letting go. “Pleasure to meet you.”

They return to their task of retrieving all their scattered belongings, Renjun keeping his eyes cast towards the ground, but consciously aware of the stranger’s eyes on him the entire time, not quite scrutinizing, but observing. It isn’t an uncomfortable or unfamiliar feeling, as Renjun is used to getting stares from strangers, having lived in a number of foreign countries in his life, and he’s aware he will often stick out like a sore thumb. But it’s strange, being blatantly observed from so up close. It’s … unsettling.

Inwardly, as he picks up the miscellaneous articles belonging to Donghyuck, he muses at the variety spread out on the asphalt; notebooks, pens of different colors, packs of gum, an abundance of postcards, and the most amusing to him: a grape-flavored Kool-Aid, like those that one would find in a grade schooler’s lunch bag. 

When Renjun goes to hand his pile of collected items back to the stranger — who has a name now, Donghyuck — he’s surprised when instead of grasping the things, his hands are met with a firm grip. 

“I didn’t quite catch your name.” Donghyuck’s words are serious, but his eyes are twinkling, the corner of his mouth tipping almost imperceptibly upwards into a barely-there smile. 

And it’s like there’s an unspoken inside joke passed between the two of them — two strangers meeting for the first time, two lines intersecting, two meteors crash landing home. Renjun is just as aware as Donghyuck is that he did not, in fact, make any effort to offer his name. And yet,

“Renjun. I’m Renjun.” 

_Jilin, China_

The wind whips around them, chilly and merciless. The day is overcast, the sky blotted out by an indiscernible number of clouds, pale with bruised underbellies heavy with precipitation. It will rain today.

Renjun can practically taste the moisture in the air, the scent of petrichor heavy in the air, lingering in his nostrils and flooding his senses. His hair is likely frizzing at the ends, the breeze feeling wet and damp on his cheeks.

He closes his eyes, tips his head back, and just enjoys the feeling of the raindrops kissing his face. It’s just started as a light mist, landing on his eyelids, the seams of his lips, running down the side of his face.

“Having a blast taking a shower in public au naturel? How scandalous.”

Renjun blinks his eyes open, momentarily forgetting that he is willingly letting rain pelter into his face and immediately curses when a drop lands in his eyeball. He’s turning to the source of the voice, rapidly rubbing at his eye, glare at the ready. 

The offending object of his displeasure is currently standing three meters away, safely sheltered by a red umbrella he holds above his head. A cheeky grin is gracing his face, sharp and mischievous. 

“Oh, don’t stop for me. I was quite enjoying the view.”

Renjun swings his arm in Donghyuck’s direction, flinging droplets of water from the tips of his fingers, hoping they’ll hit true, but Donghyuck dances away with a laugh, skipping over the puddles of water sitting in the hollowed out ditches in the ground with ease, keeping a safe distance away. 

“Fuck you,” he bites out. 

“Now, now, I’m sure that’s not how the common folk express gratitude here. Here I was, all concerned for your old, creaky body — pardon me, for your well-being,” Donghyuck arches an amused eyebrow at Renjun’s unimpressed look, “coming out to fetch your sorry ass from this impending downpour, and what do I get? Not so much as a thank-you! Sabotage! The audacity.”

“Thank you, your royal highness. The concern was unneeded and unnecessary. Don’t hurt your pea-sized brain worrying about such things.”

As Donghyuck huffs and grumbles in annoyance, Renjun steps under the umbrella, briefly sheltering himself from the rain. Despite the act he puts on, Donghyuck still adjusts his grip, bringing it closer to Renjun’s body to accommodate the two of them. Renjun tilts his head up slightly from the proximity, looking into Donghyuck’s eyes as he stares back at him, quiet. They share a moment of silence, of companionship, two tiny dandelions powerless in the storm of a heaven’s despair. 

After what seems like an eternity, Donghyuck whispers, “Are you okay?” 

Renjun stares back, heart in his throat, stomach in knots, and asks himself the same question. He’s not sure what’s got him feeling this way; as if a piece of him that was missing was being forcefully shoved back into place, being shifted this way and that, except it didn’t fit anymore. Feeling like he should feel happy, relieved, but feeling none of that. Only an aching loneliness, like jagged edges cutting into his heart.

He doesn’t offer a response. 

Donghyuck doesn’t seem to need one, for he searches for something in Renjun’s eyes and seems to arrive at an answer. His eyes soften, the usual gleam in them dimming slightly, a leaping fire transforming into a tamed hearth that provides warmth and comfort in the cold winter. He stretches his free hand out, palm facing upwards, and extends it slowly into Renjun’s space. A quiet question, a silent offer. 

And Renjun, in his weakness, takes his hand and places it in Donghyuck’s.

Gently, Donghyuck guides them away from the cliff, back to shelter, to safety, to sanity. He keeps the umbrella over the both of their heads the best he can, and if he brings it more to Renjun’s side, so that raindrops splash on the shoulder of his own coat, darkening it, he doesn’t say anything.

The sky pours out its heart in a torrent, weeping relentlessly. The drops that fall from the sky land with a violent fury, leaping as high as grasshoppers from the puddles that collect on the ground. 

As they drive to their next destination, Donghyuck depositing Renjun gently on the passenger side before quietly starting the engine, putting in Renjun’s favorite CD, he gently extends his hand over the center console, placing his hand over Renjun’s.

He shifts his hand, pushing Renjun’s hand over to envelop his palm with his, intertwining their fingers.

Later, all Renjun can think about is the warmth of Donghyuck’s hand in his, how right their fingers feel slotted together, as if two opposites drawn together, captive in a magnetic pull.

He never wants to let go.

🌅

He sinks down with a sigh, feeling all the tension sap out of his body, deflating like the exhale of a balloon. He sits in the water’s murky depths and lets the warmth envelop him in a soothing embrace.

He stares across at Donghyuck, whose face is the very definition of blissful contentedness, amused but well aware he probably looks the same. Even when he’s millennia old, Renjun muses that hot springs will have that effect on anyone.

It was Donghyuck’s idea to hit up a hot spring after Renjun mentioned that Jilin was known for them. After the storm, being able to bask in the warmth offered by the springs is far more comforting than he expected.

He doesn’t know if it’s the steam slowly curling around their faces, playfully obscuring the view and casting a lulling haze that allows vulnerability, the soft guzhen music playing a soothing melody, or just the fact that he’s back where he once called home ages and ages ago, but Renjun feels his lips loosen and lets himself be unguarded for a rare moment. Before he thinks better of it, he poses the question, “Why do you want to find love?”

And he watches Donghyuck’s serene expression tense briefly before it smooths out again. He doesn’t seem too offended at the blunt question, for he shoots back, “And why _don’t_ you?”

“I …” Renjun is stunned into silence, the sudden redirected question catching him off guard. “I don’t … see the point?” 

“The _point_?” Donghyuck sounds incredulous, sitting upright instantly. Renjun tries valiantly to keep his eyes focused above the curve of Donghyuck’s chin, refusing to stare at the dip of his shoulders or the curve of his collarbones. 

The object of his attention huffs, sounding thoroughly fed up. “Renjun, not everything is about a, I don’t know, god-awful, logical, scientific _point_.”

“Well, explain to me then,” Renjun throws back, feeling his face heat up, “why humans waste away their whole lives searching for — what do they call it? — some sort of glorified self-actualization, redemption, _purpose_ , whatever it is they call it.”

“And what is wrong with that? What is wrong with making the best out of something, with trying to find a reason to live despite all the hardships, the tests, the suffering that life makes them go through?” Donghyuck sounds indignant, defending the very people that would rejoice in being rid of their kind, and Renjun can’t believe his ears.

“But do you see us searching for it? The reason they need to cling to a foolish, pathetic ideal of a purpose is they believe that it gives their short lives a lasting meaning. They seek to leave legacies, seek to become martyrs, seek to create something that will outlive their flesh bodies in any way they can.”

“So that in a way, they can live on.” Donghyuck murmurs, voice hushed.

“It’s purely a human thing to do. And so utterly pathetic.”

Instead of getting angry, Donghyuck just sighs, sinking down into the water further. He tips his head back against the edge of the pool, column of his neck exposed. Renjun swallows.

“Renjun, tell me. How many human lives have we seen come and go, to bloom and shine so utterly brightly, only to wither away? They live their days, not fearing the finite, inevitable end, because they don’t know what it’s like to have forever. That gives them drive. That gives them meaning, because you only fear taking things for granted until you know that it can be lost.”

Renjun doesn’t say anything. He waits.

“I see all these humans, living mundane, routine lives. They’ll go to work, slave away for half the day, and then at the end of the day, they go home and they reunite with the people whom they hold dear.” Donghyuck pauses, swirling a finger in the water, and Renjun marvels at how the skin on his fingertip doesn’t prune. “What must it be like to have a family?”

“Humans are creatures that crave belonging, community. Family,” Renjun scoffs. “Better to call them herds, because they can’t bear to be alone. That is why they have packs, why they seek friends, why they cling to something as intangible as religion.” Renjun huffs, his breath coming out in a cloud. “They are selfish.”

“What do we have to cling to in this world, if not companionship? If not connection? If not something, anything, that unites us?” Donghyuck says this, and when he looks up, his eyes are filled with an awful yearning, so wanting that it shocks the breath out of his lungs. “Don’t you want to know what that feels like? To have a family to go home to every day?”

“But you have _me_. You’re not alone, and wouldn’t you call what we have a – a home?” Renjun feels the words stick in his throat, but he claws them out, through the briar-overgrown forest of his throat.

“A place to live, yes. But a home? Renjun, we don’t stay in one place for more than ten years, lest we are suspected. We don’t _have_ somewhere to go to every night, to live out our days, to grow old –“ Donghyuck cuts himself off, blinking as if shocked at himself. “Nothing we have is ever going to last,” he whispers, choked and defeated.

Watching the water vapour curl upwards and dissipate into nothingness, Renjun can’t help but agree.

🌅

It snows that night.

They’re walking home from the bathhouse, bundled into their thick down jackets, beanies tucked over their ears and faces buried in their scarves. 

They trudge through the white carpeting the ground, eyes squinted against the freezing wind that nips at their noses, the snow falling in thick sheets. They walk in pace, matching each other step for step. 

Donghyuck stops, suddenly. Renjun’s at least a couple feet ahead before he registers the lack of a body beside him and whirls around, confused. 

Donghyuck is standing amongst the backdrop of snow, the heavy snowfall blanketing every visible surface, casting a hazy white hue over everything. It almost looks like everything has been cast in a sepia-toned filter. His face is upturned, gaze fixed on the pale sky, bright as if it were day, but unarguably it is the thick of night. 

Renjun marvels at the quiet wonder in Donghyuck’s eyes, the way he watches, transfixed, how each snowflake floats down gently to land in the curve of his palm, only to disappear in its embrace. 

“They’re not entirely unique, you know.”

Donghyuck looks back at him and smiles. He graces him with a grin and asks, not losing the smile, “But does it matter?” 

“They’re tiny, they melt, and then they’re gone. Or even if they don’t, they’re lost among the thousands? Millions? Billions of the masses and disappear.” Renjun blows a breath of air out, watching it curl upwards before vanishing. Translucent, temporary.

“And yet.”

“And yet.”

“And yet, they have the audacity to form these beautiful, one-of-a-kind shapes. Oh, don’t you even start, you boring old fart.” 

Renjun snaps his mouth shut, not even bothering to hide his grin. Donghyuck takes the opportunity of his silence to saunter closer, as gracefully as he can in a foot of snow, and shows him a tiny speck of a thing on his sleeve.

Renjun squints at it.

It’s a snowflake that has not yet melted, iridescent and indignant in its beauty. Renjun watches as a puff of their breaths, intermingled as a cloud of white in the air, melts it away, just like that. 

Donghyuck sighs, wistfully. “And there it goes, living its brief yet wonderful life.”

“You want to be a special snowflake?” Renjun teases.

His eyes are sparkling, but his smile looks tinged with something else. “I do.” 

Renjun doesn’t know what to say.

“But I already am!” As quick as the flip of a switch, Donghyuck bounds away, running ahead. 

Renjun startles, breaking into a run almost immediately. 

He’ll be damned if he lets Donghyuck win him in a chase.

As he runs past, trees blurring in the edge of his vision, his vision fills with the landscape of something else. A child, barely managing to stay atop the snow that comes up to his knees, tottering between two adults, all of them linked by their hands. Occasionally, the child is picked up, swinging in a wide arc, letting out peals of laughter like bells. 

He blinks, and the image is lost. 

Before he realizes it, Donghyuck is skidding to a stop, and he crashes straight into Donghyuck’s back. 

Donghyuck catches him in his arms, steadying the both of them before they topple over. Or so he thinks, until Donghyuck tugs, and the world is tilting —

They both land with a soft thud and an _oof_. The snow makes a good cushion. 

Donghyuck turns his head to look at him, sprawled on his back.

He opens his mouth, and softer than snow, he asks, "Are you okay?"

And Renjun answers, without hesitation, "I am."

He hasn’t been back in the last hundred years, but it feels like his memory of the place is renewed, replaced by the tinge of light cast by the boy he brought back home. 

“You asked me where this was. It’s somewhere I used to live … long ago.”

“Long ago, huh? I wonder just how long it has to be for someone as old as you to say that,” Donghyuck laughs, eyes bright. His smile is cheeky, and Renjun is nearly blinded by the sight. 

And it’s like it dissipates, as easily as cobwebs melting away in the wind, and the fog of memory no longer wants to shackle him back into the darkness. 

And because Donghyuck smiling makes him want to smile too, he takes the bait. “Oh, when I was your age, I was such a respectful child. Makes me wonder how they educate their children these days …”

Donghyuck just laughs, tossing his head. “Quit it, as if you’re the model image of a good child. As if!”

It’s sudden; it’s like a weight has been lifted off his chest, as if he were Atlas, and the world was no longer bearing down on his shoulders. It dawns on him that there is nothing that ties him to this place except an old fragment of memory. 

A ghost of the past, perhaps. He thinks he could make peace with being haunted by a shadow of himself; there’s always room for more in the eccentric maze of his mind.

Before he can become entangled in his own thoughts, something comes flying out of nowhere and hits him in the cheek. It’s wet and cold. 

He looks beside him, and Donghyuck’s no longer there. Instead, he’s crouched on the floor with an evil glint in his eye. There’s snow in his hair, snow on his jacket, and there are wet patches already on the knees of his jeans. He looks stupid. So stupid. 

But so, so beautiful.

Before he has the time to react, another snowball comes sailing at him, and he dodges, narrowly missing a smack to the eye.

“Oh, it’s on!”

Later, when they're both lying panting in the snow, catching their breath between bouts of giggles, Renjun looks beside him, at the one person he'd never give up for the world.

Thinks about how his home has long since changed from this stretch of land to the bright, beaming boy beside him.

🌅

At some point in the night, Renjun finds himself nose-to-nose with Donghyuck and blinks his eyes open blearily, wondering if he was caught in a dream. He traces the way the moonlight glides off the slope of Donghyuck’s nose, the way his moles seem to glitter in the night. The shadow cast over the soft curve of his cheeks by his eyelashes, full and dark, the way his lips are slightly parted, exhaling soft breaths in his sleep. 

He’s acting without thinking, and beyond his control, his hand reaches out from underneath the sheets.

He allows himself one moment of weakness, reaching a hand out to tuck a fly-away curl behind Donghyuck’s ear, and as quickly as he’d done so, he withdraws his hand, as if burned.

For Donghyuck has always burned too brightly, and Renjun’s always been taught to never touch what is not his.

_Paris, France_

Donghyuck bursts through the door, bringing in the cold breeze on his tail, his hair ruffled and windswept under the beanie pulled over his head. But what Renjun notices first, almost immediately, is the way his eyes sparkle, as if all of Paris’s lights were reflected in his eyes; how his cheeks are rosy, but not from the cold. The smile stretching across his face is stunning, and Renjun finds his lips tipping upwards in an instinctual response, wanting to mirror the expression back at him. 

It scares him.

“Renjun, Renjun, Renjun!” Donghyuck skids to a stop beside him in their tiny kitchen, one hand already unwinding the scarf from around his neck, scattering tiny white snowflakes everywhere that melt immediately upon leaving the confines of the woolen material, courtesy of their furnace and Renjun’s tendency to pump the heat up to a toasty temperature. Little droplets of water are scattered all over Donghyuck’s coat and his eyelashes, and Renjun _tsks_ disapprovingly as they inevitably land everywhere. 

“What?” He scoffs, eyeing the moisture on their floorboards in mild distaste, sighing at the damp state of Donghyuck’s socks when he notices them. 

“You’ll never guess,” he crows, removing his coat and dropping it unceremoniously over the back of a chair. 

“Then I won’t try,” he retorts easily. Renjun isn’t one to waste time or breath (despite having an abundance of both), and he knows Donghyuck too well to not pass up on an opportunity to push his buttons. He’ll tell him anyways, because it’s clear he wants to, if the hopping from foot-to-foot is anything to go by. 

But today, even his feigned lack of enthusiasm doesn’t seem to be enough to halt Donghyuck in his joy. 

“Oh, don’t be such a spoilsport.” Donghyuck chuckles, hooking an arm around Renjun’s elbow and tugging him back, away from the pot of stew he is currently attending to at the stove. He shoots Donghyuck a look, but Donghyuck locks their arms together and blinks up at Renjun from his perch on his shoulder. “It’s important.”

“What could possibly be more important than ensuring my beef bourguignon doesn’t dry out?”

“Shut up and listen, you old man!” Donghyuck huffs indignantly, but his eyes don’t cease to shine. 

For the gripe, Renjun pointedly tugs his arm back and goes back to his pot, dipping the ladle in and bringing it up to his lips to taste-test.

“I got a date.”

Renjun inhales a breath of air too sharply, a small chunk of softened potato lodging its way into his airway. He coughs, the rapidfire reply on the tip of his tongue dying in the wake of him ungracefully choking on the offending vegetable. 

Donghyuck wordlessly gives him a few unsympathetic thumps on the back, waiting patiently for him to stop hacking away before he looks into Renjun’s face, expectant.

“Well?”

He doesn’t dignify him with a response, clearing his throat instead. His heart does an ugly lurch, and he scrambles for an appropriate response, going for a neutral approach.

“You, a date?” 

“Oh quit it, grinch. I’m serious, I have a date with Mr. Handsome. On Friday!”

Renjun eyes him cautiously, half-waiting for Donghyuck to drop the punch line, to leer at him for being gullible. When nothing comes, a bitter taste is left in his mouth. He chooses to disregard the reason why, resolutely denying himself the chance to decipher what it means. 

“Well, congrats then.”

He turns back to his pot, now a bit chunky and thick, and stirs furiously, but his heart isn’t in it anymore. He keeps his eyes down, but his thoughts are far, far away.

He thinks about the first day Donghyuck had burst back into their apartment, an odd skip in his step that hadn’t been there before, a cheer that was hard to ignore. He’d been humming, rummaging around their kitchen to make them some coffee. Renjun had watched on, amused, curious about this bout of upbeatness, but had not asked, thinking a simple good had happened; he had struck up a meaningful conversation with a stranger, received a free scone on the house, had told someone that they looked beautiful and was thanked genuinely in response. 

Donghyuck always emphasized the little joys, and he wouldn’t be surprised if that was the case.

Days later, Renjun had caught him trying to slip out of their apartment unawares, decked out in what Renjun could only describe as Donghyuck “trying hard”. That’s not to say Donghyuck didn’t on a daily basis — he always had an impeccable sense of style, but it was clear he had put extra effort into his outfit, having even gone to the trouble to spend an hour in front of the bathroom mirror, doing his hair. 

“Okay, what’s up with you?”

Donghyuck had turned around, a guilty look on his face. The morning light had just begun streaming through their open blinds, casting slanting rows over his face. 

Donghyuck never got up early. Not for anything.

“Good morning?”

“I don’t know, I’m asking you. What are you doing ruining your perfect morning?”

“Oh, I’m, uh. Going out?”

Renjun had fixed him with a bland stare. 

“To buy some bread …?”

As if he’d have bought that, but he let it go. 

“Well, then have fun on your bread run. Who’d have thought you’d one day be the breadwinner of the family?”

Donghyuck groans, any apprehension in his face draining away to reveal exasperation. 

“Tell cute boy I said hi.”

“What — how’d you know —”

“I didn’t. But now you confirmed it, so have fun seeing your Prince Charming.”

“-jun.”

“Renjun!”

He startles back, finding droplets of stew splattering everywhere on the stovetop, and he curses, grabbing a rag and scrubbing furiously. The stove sizzles loudly in protest and he sighs, tossing the rag away before pressing the heel of his palm against his eye.

“Sorry, I’m listening. Prince Charming. I can’t believe you scored a date. Things are finally looking up for you, huh?” He casts a smile at Donghyuck, snickering.

Donghyuck swipes at his shoulder in retaliation before chattering on excitedly, about what he’d wear, about what they’d be doing. 

Renjun zones out after a while, staring into the distance, to which Donghyuck is oblivious to.

He doesn’t know how to feel about no longer being the cause of Donghyuck’s happiness.

These days, Donghyuck looks infinitely more _alive_ , glowing with an otherworldliness that comes from some deeper place within. Renjun can’t deny that whoever it is, they were making Donghyuck shine brighter than he ever had, and he can’t fault them for that.

He can’t help feeling like a spaceship out of orbit, having been overshot and unable to find its way home. 

🌅

When Donghyuck darts out the door on Friday with a cheery smile and a wave, Renjun returns it with one that doesn’t quite reach his eyes.

As soon as Donghyuck disappears around the corner of the hallway, Renjun feels a pit of anxiety brew in his gut, churning and roiling. 

Who was Donghyuck meeting? 

Why was he able to bring a smile like one he had never seen before, in all his decades of knowing Donghyuck, within a mere few weeks?

More importantly, who was he? Could he be trusted to not bring them any harm?

Renjun had heard on the radio just a few days ago about a police investigation and search. Paris was known to be firm in its beliefs about the supernatural, and the mistrust and wariness surrounding anything beyond human comprehension was faced with hostility.

Renjun tries to tell himself that’s the reason why he is feeling so unnerved by this.

He tries pacing the length of the living room to quell his anxiety, probably covering fifty football fields in the process. It doesn't help.

Before he drives himself crazy, he snatches a coat and steps out the door.

He doesn't think twice.

The location isn't hard to find. It's only, oh, the second most famed place in Paris. 

Donghyuck had boasted about it for days preceding the date, so it's not like Renjun is engaging in some unethical stalker behavior.

He's just taking a nice stroll to the Louvre. Of his own accord, of course.

He darts in and out between exhibits, head swivelling around as he tries to detect Donghyuck’s unmistakable head of hair. Normally, he should be thrilled to be in such a place filled with timeless art pieces and countless historical mementos, but appreciation of the arts is the last thing on his mind right now. He can't help the worry that wells up within him, fast and overwhelming like floodwater as he threads in and out of tourist groups.

He is ultimately unsuccessful, and he returns to the front, deflated, having been unable to locate Donghyuck.

Just as he steps outside and prepares to embark on his journey home, he hears Donghyuck’s voice carried over on the wind. His head turns, a compass finding north, and his gaze is drawn to the distinct beige of his coat. Donghyuck disappears into a nearby cafe, not without waving to a man who stands waiting outside in a black trenchcoat.

A cold chill rushes down his spine and he sprints forward out of the shadows, before realizing that approaching out of nowhere would be more than suspicious. He turns around hastily, adjusting his coat and tidying his clothes before casually walking up to the man. 

“Hello, excuse me! Would you be able to point me to a library?” 

The man freezes, back stiffening before he turns around to face Renjun.

He has curly black hair that hangs over his forehead in tousled waves. Golden-rimmed glasses perched on his nose, scrunched up in a look of confusion. He looks a bit like a lost puppy.

Definitely Donghyuck’s type.

“Sure,” the man replies slowly, giving Renjun a once-over. “You are a bit far from the library.” He speaks in perfect English, and takes the time to relay a set of lengthy directions that Renjun doesn’t bother filing into his brain.

He eyes the posture that the man has adopted, one leg forward and one behind, knees slightly bent. To the passing eye, the man looks the picture of social comfort, relaxed, and to his credit, everything, from his facial expression to the set of his shoulders reveals nothing but a nonchalant aura. But under Renjun’s inspection, he can see how the tension in every part of the man’s body, drawn tight like a bow waiting to release. Were anything to indicate even the slightest sign of a threat, Renjun has no doubt that the man would be ready.

Almost as if he were a soldier, military trained.

But what would the threat be?

He warily flicks his eyes up to the man’s casual smile, the sharp, alert look in his eyes, and immediately feels unsettled.

“Thank you,” he dips his head politely, stepping away and heading in the direction he was pointed to. 

“You better hurry on your way home,” the man calls. “Be careful when it’s dark.”

“Oh?” Renjun can’t help turning around, curiosity getting the better of him. “What is there to fear on these streets?”

The man smiles, oddly sinister, with an almost amused glint in his eye. “Oh, there’s plenty. Some have been lost to legend, but I assure you, they still exist.”

“Legends,” Renjun feels a laugh tumble out, unbidden. “The biggest threat is probably the common man.”

“We call them creatures of the night. They still roam these streets.” The man puts a hand to his waist, briefly, lingering around the area before putting his arm down. He leans forward, despite the distance between them. He nods at the tabloid stand near the side of the street, headlines telling of a horrific murder with gruesome details. Renjun just barely catches sight of, _Young girl, 16, found dead from blood loss with mysterious wounds on neck_. 

“You believe in myths like those?” he hears himself say, sounding far steadier than he feels. He tries for sounding disbelieving, amused, but it takes all his effort to keep a nervous tremor from surfacing in his voice. _There’s no way he would know._

“You’d be surprised.”

Renjun hears the blood roaring in his ears, and it takes every ounce of his strength to put one foot in front of the other in a measured pace rather than run away.

🌅

The door creaks, and Renjun would be on his feet in superhuman speed if he wasn’t more than familiar with the sound of Donghyuck’s footsteps. 

“Back so early tonight?” Renjun arches an eyebrow at the dark figure that slips in through the door, silent as a shadow.

A breathy laugh sounds, and Donghyuck materializes in the patch of moonlight gleaming on the wooden floors from the window. The light glints off the necklace shining around his neck and his tired smile. 

“Missed me?” He drawls, playfully sending a wink his way before he collapses on the couch next to him, immediately dropping his head onto Renjun’s shoulder, sighing as he leans into him. 

“I think I should be the one asking that,” Renjun teases back, hand automatically coming up to brush through Donghyuck’s hair. 

Donghyuck lets out a long exhale of air that seems to sweep out all remaining breath from his body, sagging against Renjun’s side. He shifts, slumping down until all his weight sinks into the couch and his head lands on Renjun’s thighs, weakly batting away Renjun’s hands before settling them around his face.

Wordlessly, he continues combing through Donghyuck’s hair, marvelling at how his fingers slide through the locks like water, cool as silk. 

Donghyuck lets out a yawn, mouth gaping wide, a white fang glinting in the moonlight. He closes his eyes and sighs for the umpteenth time that night.

Renjun ducks his head down closer before quickly recoiling away, face pinched. 

“You reek of weed and sex. And beer. Disgusting.”

Donghyuck shrugs, more a shake of his head than a raise of his shoulders. “Mark took me to a bar.”

He snorts, the sound bitter and self-torturing. “Mark this, Mark that.”

“Would you rather you were all I talked about instead?” Donghyuck shoots a sneaky look up from where his head is pillowed in Renjun’s lap, eyes glittering mischievously. 

“Stop going.”

“What?” Donghyuck shifts, a minute movement before he stills, motionless as stone. If their kind weren’t already running at a temperature several degrees lower than human beings, Renjun would say Donghyuck turned colder, if that was even possible.

“I said, stop going with him.”

Renjun’s fingers have stilled in Donghyuck’s hair, pausing in their ministrations as if respecting the silence that stretches between them, taut and tense. 

Donghyuck exhales, an angry and exasperated sound, before he sits up abruptly, turning around to pin Renjun with a glare.

“Renjun, we are not having this conversation.”

Renjun opens his mouth, hand reaching up helplessly, but Donghyuck doesn’t even give him the chance, spinning around, closed off and grumpy.

The meter between them on the couch feels like oceans of distance.

“Donghyuck,” Renjun starts before trailing off, feeling a headache already start to build in his temple. He’s lost count of how many times they’ve had this exact conversation since Donghyuck’s first date.

“I don’t want to hear it,” the voice snaps back. 

Past Renjun would have snapped back. Past Renjun wouldn’t have let the words just die in the silence, rotting in the unspoken fury. But Past Renjun had already tried this too many times, without success, and Current Renjun was tired of arguing. 

So Renjun doesn’t utter a word, choosing to keep his mouth shut, gazing at the tensed back facing away from him, wishing that the person it belonged to were facing the other way, were looking back.

🌅

“Here!” 

Renjun approaches, trying not to let his feet drag too much or at least appear like he’s dreading the meeting. Although every fibre of his being is screaming in protest, practically digging their claws into the ground, willing him to turn back and leave.

He plows on anyways. He promised Donghyuck as much. That he’d meet this “Mark”, an anomaly, an enigma, an abnormality.

He’d see for himself what Donghyuck was getting himself into.

As he gets closer, he pulls a smile, and if it’s directed more at Donghyuck than the man standing beside him; well, no one would be able to tell.

The man’s smile is nothing but polite, but somehow, Renjun feels like bacterium under a microscope, being scrutinized.

Oh, well. Renjun isn’t exactly being subtle in his efforts to size the other up, either.

“Oh, it’s you?”

Donghyuck looks between the two of them, confused, eyebrow arched in surprise. “What’s going on?”

“I bumped into him outside the other day,” he says, glancing at the man. 

“I pointed him to the library,” he agrees with a laugh. “What a small world it is.”

The look Donghyuck shoots him is equal parts disbelieving and exasperated, and Renjun wants to laugh. To an onlooker, it could be easily interpreted as an exasperation borne from Renjun’s presumably uncanny knack for getting lost, but Renjun knows Donghyuck to be smarter than that. Renjun wouldn’t venture out to visit the library, much less ask someone for directions.

“The library? Who are you?”

Renjun gives him a hard jab in the ribs, driving his elbow in with no mercy.

“Anyways,” the man chuckles, already offering his hand in Renjun’s direction. “Formal introductions are overdue. I’m Mark.”

Something instinctual tells him not to trust this man, unable to shake the discomforting feeling from their first meeting, so he settles on, “Jun. I’m Jun, nice to meet you.”

When Mark grips his hand, the first thing he notices are the calluses. Running along the ridges of his fingers, on the flipside of his knuckles. His hold is firm, not relenting in their strength.

When he straightens up, he catches the look Donghyuck shoots him, this one less exasperated and more annoyed.

As he withdraws his hand, the light catches on the glint of a silver chain around the man’s wrist, partially hidden by his sleeve. Renjun’s heart thuds, the hair on the back of his neck prickling.

Silver is never a good sign for their kind. Silver, if altered and infused with a special poison, is the one effective weapon to stop their hearts. 

“That’s,” the words come out before he has the time to think twice, to mull over whether it is a good idea or not, “a nice bracelet you’re wearing.” 

Mark startles, eyes flicking to his in confusion before he casts his eyes down at his wrist and registers. He looks up and smiles, but the smile is a wry one. 

He toys with it absentmindedly, twisting the cross around and around his wrist, a habitual unconscious motion. “Yes. My grandmother gave it to me. So I wouldn’t forget.”

And a chill goes through him from head to toe, a waterfall of frigid water crashing over his head. Mark’s eyes are fixed on some faraway place, gaze lost in some memory, but every nerve ending is alight with the feeling that something is wrong, wrong, wrong.

Renjun reaches out weakly to grasp at something, anything, aware of the gray static that crawls across his vision, but powerless to stop it. 

“Jun. Jun! What’s wrong?” 

Renjun comes to, the sight of Donghyuck’s worried face swimming into his vision. He blinks, disoriented, and comes to realize he has Donghyuck’s wrist in his hand, clutching it in a death grip. He hastily releases his hold and pastes on a shaky smile over his face, unable to rid himself of the writhing, uncomfortable feeling of dread.

“You just. Blanked and zoned out.” Donghyuck’s hands flutter worriedly around his body, restlessly hovering around his face before he finally settles them on his shoulders, squeezing them firmly to get Renjun to stare him straight in the eyes. “Are you okay?”

Mark is looking on with a mix of interest and worry, his eyes wide and concerned. Renjun would almost believe the sincerity in his eyes if there wasn’t a blade of agitation twisting in his gut this way and that, telling him there was more to this man than what meets the eye.

“You looked like you were about to faint.” He remarks lightly, eyes inspecting Renjun’s face carefully before looking directly into his eyes. 

He coughs, trying to hide his unnerved state. “I’m fine, just a bout of lightheadedness. I have a bit of a headache today.”

Mark nods, making a noise of sympathy. “Make sure you get lots of rest. Don’t push yourself too much today.”

Donghyuck clearly isn’t buying it, staring intently into Renjun’s eyes as if he could read his thoughts from that alone, and Renjun insistently waves a hand in his direction, patting him on the head for good measure, dismissing his concern. It’s Donghyuck’s date, and they’re not going to ruin it over something like his foolish intuition.

He isn’t even sure himself if the burning hot coals of something distasteful, stinging like a tangy pulp applied over an open wound, is the bitter taste of jealousy or his instinct warning him of potential peril that could jeopardize their safety. 

He doesn’t have the luxury of figuring that out, not when Donghyuck’s accepted his reassurance, though without a furrow in his brow, and has proceeded to glue himself to Mark’s side, tugging him along by their clasped hands. His eyes are immediately drawn to the sight, and he hates himself just a little more, digging in the blade of disgust and twisting to rid himself of the unbecoming feeling of wanting to rip Mark’s hand off.

It’s not his place to do so, and he has no right feeling this way.

🌅

Donghyuck and Mark are chatting up a storm, and Renjun’s beginning to regret agreeing to this. He’s feeling every part of the third wheel he’s become for the past hour or so, and he curses to the heavens why he thought that this was a good idea.

Any past thoughts about expressing moral support or passing judgment on Donghyuck’s current love interest to ensure that it’s the right person for him goes out the window. Or, if he’s more honest with himself, sizing up Mark to see just where he outshines him —

He adamantly stops that thought in its tracks before it even has a chance to form. 

He doesn’t know what is wrong with him today, but even the sight of Donghyuck and Mark in such close proximity with each other makes his chest physically ache with something awful. 

He watches the way Donghyuck tosses his head back, laughing that full-chested, rich sound that makes Renjun feel warm all over. Watches the way that he listens to Mark with stars in his eyes, a smile never leaving his lips. 

The way he’d never look at him.

Abruptly, he pushes his seat back from the table. It causes a loud screeching noise, grinding against the tiled floor. Mark and Donghyuck both look up, pausing in their conversation to glance at Renjun.

“I’m heading to the washroom,” he says tightly, already backing out from the table and hurrying away from the table — away from them, away from hurt, away from what he wants to have but cannot have. “Must have ate something weird, I’ll be back.”

He dodges the waiters with arms full of trays and hot food, briskly walking down the hall to the men’s washroom. He slams the door open, relieved to find it empty, and plants himself in front of the mirror. 

He stares at himself, at the angry set of his brows, the clench of his jaw, the accusation in his eyes.

_What am I doing?_

Donghyuck might have been a little too enamoured to pay him any mind, but if he did? Renjun couldn’t just let his feelings _show_ like that, out in the open like a festering wound. It would infect everything around, and it’d be too late.

Donghyuck could never find out.

He schools his expression into one of apathy, watches as the frustrated flush evaporates from his face, smooths over any angry lines. He stares back, breathing deeply, until the person in the mirror resembles the part he’s meant to play.

The best friend. The moral support. The ride or die.

But no matter how hard he tries, he can’t seem to get rid of the glimmer of vulnerability, of the silent despair in his eyes. He sighs and turns away, not able to stand another minute of seeing the false persona imprisoning all his inner thoughts.

Just as he’s about to leave, he hears Mark’s voice just outside the door and stills, hand hovering over the door’s handle.

“Not here,” Mark is hissing in a low, unassuming voice. “I haven’t seen enough yet, but I assure you I will.”

Renjun tenses, every siren in his head blaring with the loud, overbearing sensation of this being dangerous. Every muscle in his body tightens with his trepidation and locks into a fight or flight mode. 

More quiet, inaudible muttering. Despite his sharp hearing, Renjun is unable to make out any of the words and strains to hear, one step away from pressing his ear to the door. 

“I know one of them when I see one.”

Renjun feels like he is inhaling cold, icy air, so sharp that it cuts his lungs. His breath comes in short gasps, and his body is screaming at him to move to run away. 

The door is opening a slight crack and he backs away, heart thudding in his chest, panic seizing up every muscle in his body. He raises his arm, ready to strike at whoever comes in -

But it’s only Donghyuck, peering his head cautiously around the tiny crack he’s opened. He takes in Renjun’s state, breathing heavily, gasping in lungfuls of air, and slips in as quiet as a ghost. 

He takes Renjun by the shoulders and gives him a gentle shake, staring deeply into his eyes. He doesn’t give him the chance to hide away, bringing a hand up to grip his chin. 

“What’s wrong? You definitely don’t look okay. I know we don’t get sick, but —”

Renjun rushes to place his hand over Donghyuck’s mouth, stemming his words. He isn’t sure what he just chanced upon outside the bathroom, but it’s clear that it wasn’t something he was supposed to have heard. It wasn’t meant for his ears, and while that is true of most unintentionally eavesdropped conversations, Renjun’s head is spinning, gears in it shifting. He can’t shake the feeling that this man is a threat, that his words spoke of a promise to harm them. 

He doesn’t have the chance to mull over the thought, as the door bursts open and Mark rushes in, clutching his hand. 

He throws them a panicked look and a weak smile, rushing to the sink to stick his finger under the stream of water from the faucet.

The basin immediately fills with pinkish water.

His nostrils flare, taking in the scent of the fresh blood. He takes a step back unconsciously, holding his breath. Donghyuck, by some miraculous means, is completely composed within three seconds and steps forward. 

Renjun’s hand darts out and grips, hard. _Be careful._

Donghyuck graces him with a nod before he approaches Mark, grabbing a few paper towels and grimly pressly them to the wound to staunch the flow of blood. 

“Keep the pressure on the cut,” he says, voice curt and steady. “It will stop bleeding soon.”

“Thanks,” Mark laughs weakly, eyes downcast. “I can’t believe I was so careless,” he winces, lifting the crumpled paper towels away from the wound to assess the damage. He whistles, staring at the red flowing from the cut.

Donghyuck’s hand shoots out, gripping the counter. His knuckles are white with the force of his hold. 

“Are you okay?” Mark looks up, alarmed at the sound of impact Donghyuck’s palm made. “I’m sorry, do you become faint at the sight of blood?”

“No,” Donghyuck mutters, eyes tightly closed. “I mean, yes, sorry …” 

Mark covers his wound with the paper towels, eyes glinting with something that looks like remorse. Except it looks crafted, fabricated, insincere. “I’m sorry, then.” 

He addresses Renjun, acknowledging him for the first time since entering the bathroom. “I’m sorry our first meeting had to be like this. Donghyuck told me so much about you, it is clear he’s very fond of you. Maybe next time? It seems today is none of our days.”

Renjun barely conceals his relief and hurries to respond, “No, no, things happen. I’ll take Donghyuck home so you can get that looked, It seems like a deep wound.”

Mark nods, an affirmative, meeting his eyes over Donghyuck’s head. “Be careful on your way home.”

For some reason, as Renjun nods a farewell and briskly tugs Donghyuck out of the washroom, it sounds strangely ominous coming from Mark’s lips, like a foreboding warning.

🌅

“I’m telling you, you should stay away from Mark.” 

The effect is instantaneous. Donghyuck’s face shutters down, every line of his face locking into one of wariness, of caution.

“Why should I?”

“Donghyuck, when will you realize?” 

Despite himself, his words stop Donghyuck in his tracks. Renjun continues, hoping to break through, to talk some reason into Donghyuck.

_Please, Donghyuck. Listen to me. I’m trying to help._

“You think I’m trying to prevent you in your grand search of love. You think I don’t approve of what you’re doing. It’s not that, Donghyuck, it’s not that at all. It’s just - not a good time. We’re in Europe, the place of some of the oldest beliefs in the world. They’re the ones that cling to superstitions and stereotypes. You know what we were getting into, moving here. They’re not fond of us here.”

Renjun takes a breath, gathering his thoughts. He has to make Donghyuck understand, without shattering the image of his picture perfect relationship. That would kill him, to have obtained this after yearning for it for so long.

“I just want to say that you need to be careful. We don’t live lifetimes like humans do. We don’t _belong_ in a society like theirs. Can’t you see?”

His heart surges, hopeful, but then Donghyuck slaps his hand away, turning around swiftly. There is a storm brewing in his eyes. 

“I don’t want to listen to your preaching, Renjun. Times have _changed._ This is not the time where witch hunts were held for clout, where humans were so quick to judge. I’ll have you know that Paris is currently one of the largest cities in the world to host blood bars. If that’s not a sign of acceptance, I don’t know what is.”

Renjun can hardly hear past the roaring in his ears, still reeling from what Donghyuck has just said. _Blood bar?_

Donghyuck’s eyes are defiant, his chin raised. His voice is sure, haughty, and Renjun feels despair at the self-assuredness that paints each one of his words.

“Blood bars. Really.”

Donghyuck glares back, and Renjun can already feel the clouds gathering, thunder rolling in the distance.

“So? That’s where I met Mark.”

And the string snaps, a guillotine rushing downwards in a path of sure death. The fear, the anger, the horror builds, and Renjun’s torment grows with it. 

“I don’t care if you met Mark or Michael Jackson, you shouldn’t be there. Donghyuck, you can want to find love, you can want to experience the lives humans do, but you can’t just —”

“It’s not like you care!” 

A gunshot, an explosion. Ash.

The words drop like a stone in a well, heavy and cold, ripples of the after effect expanding between them, bigger than an elephant in the room. A dinosaur, maybe. 

“Why would you care?” Donghyuck continues, oblivious to the carnage he is wrecking, oblivious to the ringing in Renjun’s head, the havoc he is wrecking on Renjun’s heart. “You’ve made it clear you don’t care about these things. I don’t expect you to.” Each word, glinting with poison, stabbing deep into his gut with deadly precision.

“Of course I care,” _about you_ , “I’ve literally been with you - we’ve been best friends for centuries, Donghyuck. How does that not warrant me caring?” Renjun tries valiantly to prevent his voice from cracking. Tries. 

“If you cared you wouldn’t try to stop me. If you cared you would help me!” Donghyuck yells, eyes blazing, voice cold and punctuated with anger. 

“Help you do what? Destroy yourself?” 

They stop and stare at each other, chests heaving, breaths coming quick and angry. They haven’t fought like this before. Ever.

“Stop looking for love in places it doesn’t exist,” Renjun spits, the words falling out of his mouth quicker than he can stop them. 

Donghyuck looks like he’s been slapped, his face reddening as if from the brute force of Renjun’s words alone. But he barrels on, the words unrelenting and tumbling out unbidden. 

“You’re so damn desperate to have someone share their life with you that you’re willing to go looking for it in the most unworthy places. A blood bar? Give me a break, Donghyuck! You think people go to a fucking bar for _love_? Are you out of your mind?” 

The dam has broken through, and Renjun is no longer in control of the words that rush out with all the force of a tsunami, pent up and held back for too long for their fury to be quelled. It moves with all the force of his pulsing fear, his frustration, the indescribable desperation. 

He misses it all; the way Donghyuck’s bottom lip trembles, face slackening with hurt, eyes beginning to glisten. He misses the moment that Donghyuck steels his gaze, every window to his soul locking down to leave a stony, emotionless mask behind. He misses the grief transforming to cold, icy anger.

“The people you meet there don’t love you, Donghyuck. Not in the way you want. Mark doesn’t love you. You’re just a temporary placeholder, a passing breeze, a footprint in the sand. You couldn’t be more than that.”

Renjun finally stops, heaving large lungfuls of air, feeling like he just ran miles of distance without even moving an inch. The fire in his veins relents, the burning, liquid anger dying down, flickering out slowly to leave ash. 

“Are you quite done?”

Renjun doesn’t grace that with an answer, still catching his breath. He feels drained, as if a lifetime’s worth of energy had been expended in those few words.

Donghyuck takes a step closer. One, two. He closes the distance, one slow stride at a time, never failing to hold Renjun’s gaze.

He stops a foot away. 

The two of them stand, silent as statues, the air frozen and silent, thick with tangible tension. 

Then Donghyuck lifts his fist and punches him squarely in the mouth. 

Renjun’s head twists from the impact, and he can feel the burn of the strike spreading across his cheek, can taste the blood in his mouth where he’d clamped his teeth down on his tongue. 

“You can’t just tell me shit like that like you have the right to tell me how to feel.” For the tight control Donghyuck has forced over his expression, his voice still shakes, a tremor audible at the end of his sentence. 

For a second, his iron grip crumbles, and his face sways into a heartbroken, distraught expression. Just as immediately, his face smooths into an impassive look. 

“What gives you the right? What makes you think I should hear that from _you_? Of all people, Renjun, you’re the last one I’d expect to understand.” 

That hits him right in the heart, bull’s eye through the beating, bleeding thing in his chest.

Donghyuck gets right up into his face, his slight inch of height giving him an advantage as he looks down his nose at Renjun, face all red, hands shaking, eyes burning with anger. Wrong, wrong. Everything Donghyuck is not.

“You might have lived a century more than me,” he hisses, teeth bared and nostrils flared, “And you might have been fine alone. You don’t see the point. Don’t forget, I’m not you, nor will I ever be. I don’t think there’s anything wrong with me searching for some fun, for someone I want to spend time with, for whatever the fuck I want. But.”

And here Donghyuck takes a breath, stepping back to exhale heavily before he pins Renjun to the spot with a glare dripping in potent disgust. “You asked me if we have a home. Not like this we don’t, Renjun.”

The door slams on his way out, and Renjun is left with bleeding hands, the strands of their connection blown away in the wind. 

He waits the whole night, but Donghyuck does not come back.

🌅

That night, sleep doesn’t come to him. He lies in bed, wide awake, ears tuned to hear the faintest sounds, hoping for the click of a lock, the creak of a floorboard, and is foolishly disappointed when he hears none. 

He simmers in his own misery, mind replaying Donghyuck’s words over and over.

He doesn’t regret what he said. But it doesn’t make it any easier that Donghyuck had wanted to hear none of it.

Renjun makes a decision that night. 

He would not disclose what he had heard. His logic tells him that this is a dangerous choice, that this could go very, very wrong, but he stamps out that seed of reasoning.

He has his own conclusions, but the implications of that would devastate Donghyuck.

He would not ruin this happiness for him, no matter how temporary.

While it lasted, he tells himself, he’ll help him preserve this facade.

🌅

“I’m going to tell him,” Donghyuck says, by way of a farewell. The door slams shut behind him.

Renjun stares at the shut door in confusion. _Tell him? Tell him what?_

He shrugs to himself, deciding to let Donghyuck go run to his beloved — he scoffs to himself — if he so chooses to. 

He decides to busy himself with tidying around the apartment, bringing out a rag to wipe down the shelves. The pair of them are two peas in a pod when it comes to cleaning. They’re equally lazy, equally messy, but Renjun would like to think he’s a little better; he’s a step ahead because at least he keeps his chaos organized. 

He’s carefully wiping around the souvenirs on display, the only things they’ve ever kept and always brought with them from one temporary home to another: there’s a ship in a bottle, a framed postcard, an hourglass -

He nearly drops the glass thing, feeling like he just slammed into a wall of ice. The cold shock runs down his body from the top of his head to his toes and he feels chilled to the bone. As he slowly sets the hourglass down, he notices his hands are trembling, his fingers prickling with a sort of soul-deep dread.

He’s stumbling out the door before he even realizes it, not even bothering to lock the door or grab a coat, breaking into a full run before his heels have even slipped into his shoes. He bolts down the stairs, not caring about the startled, enraged shouts he gets as he pushes past tenants walking up the stairs. All the while his heart pounds a frantic tempo, a timpani’s thunderous roar in time with each pounding footstep. _Go, go, go._

In his mind’s eye he hears Donghyuck asking, “Say, how do you think humans would react in the face of immortality?”

The image replays in his head, the off-handed way Donghyuck had asked, the way he twisted his hands into the sleeves of his sweater, nervously fiddling with an unravelling thread. The way he himself had laughed, not paying attention, “Why, they’d want it for themselves, of course!” 

_Stupid, stupid, stupid!_

He bursts out onto the nearest intersection, at once overwhelmed by the congregation of cars and dismal wailing of horns. Why did it have to be rush hour?

He whips his head left and right, casting wild glances down either side of the street. There are throngs of people and stragglers on both, minding their own business, each hurrying to their own destination. 

He chooses his instinct and heads left.

_Think, Renjun, think. Where could he be?_

He’s blundering past a small shop, a souvenir stop by the looks of it, its display window filled with replicas of miniature Eiffel towers. It’s like a lightbulb goes on in his head, because Donghyuck is, at heart and by nature, a romantic. 

He charges towards the towering iron landmark visible even from between the buildings that line the street, unrelenting in his pursuit.

Rounding the intersection, he thinks he sees the silhouettes of two people, beige and black, turning a corner in the far distance, disappearing momentarily from the flocks of people. He wills himself to pick up his speed, to push faster. 

When he makes it to the potted plant he saw them pass earlier, he is met with no roads or streets. 

He pivots in his spot, trying desperately to find Donghyuck.

_Where are you?_

He slows to a brisk walk as the number of people on the streets slowly dwindle, only a few people out walking their dogs or single tourists browsing the streets. The night is cold and the day is late, and it is as silent as a graveyard.

Strange.

In the silence, he hears a weak, gasped noise before it cuts off. But that one split second was enough. His gaze locks on an inconspicuous looking gap in the storefronts that line the street. An alleyway hiding in a strip of buildings.

He breaks into a sprint, adrenaline surging in his body.

“Donghyuck!” 

The sight that greets him is something out of his worst nightmares, and he has never felt fear like what courses through his blood now, dousing him in its chill.

The fear rips his throat raw, and an inhumane-sounding roar tears itself out of him. He sprints to where Mark has Donghyuck pinned to the wall by the throat and slams into him, sending him sprawling.

Renjun feels a sick sense of satisfaction when he hears an audible crack. Mark releases his hold with a pained grunt and Donghyuck slumps, nearly collapsing, coughing violently.

He has no time to check Donghyuck for the state of his injuries, can only grab him by the hand and bolt out of the alleyway the way he came, tugging him along. 

But before they make it out onto the street, he hears the sound of rubble being moved around.

A chilling laugh echoes around the walls.

“You can run, vampire,” he laughs, the sound a far cry from any Renjun heard sparked by Donghyuck; it’s cruel, devoid of any warmth. “I’ll find you, no matter what hole you crawl into.”

Donghyuck’s hand is loose in his, not gripping back, but he keeps pace with him, running all the way to the nearest train station, port, something that can get them far away from here. 

He doesn’t look back.

The city of love looks on, cold in her beauty, lights unblinking. 

🌅

Renjun would never say, “I told you so.” Internally, his ego screams it, flaunts it, puffing out its feathers and crowing, _Tell him! Tell him, “I told you so!”_ But the sight of Donghyuck’s defeated, empty eyes makes him feel like he is falling into a bottomless pit, stomach dropping and throat dry with a scream that wants to claw itself out. 

He curls himself around the boy, wrapping his arms around the other, enveloping him best he can. He would give him the world if it meant the glimmer returning to the other's eyes. He would give the stars if Donghyuck would stop looking like the world had ended. 

He would give every piece of himself if Donghyuck would smile at him like he did at the other boy.

He closes his eyes, breathes in the scent of Donghyuck — even soured with sadness, he smells like pure boy, something warm and borne of the light — and squeezes with all his might. As if that way, Donghyuck wouldn’t slip out of his grasp.

But as much as one may want to hold the golden sunlight that pools in your hands, you can never truly grasp it. 

It will always slip through your fingers, because it was never yours to begin with.

“Our kind don’t do well with things that aren’t constant,” Renjun murmurs. He doesn’t mean to be unkind, but is simply stating the truth; like the sun rising in the east every morning, like the earth spinning on its axis without fail, like how every object that tries to leave the confines of gravity kisses the ground at 9.8 meters per second squared. 

Donghyuck chokes on a sob. He has cried for days now, his tears a never-ending waterfall that never ebbs, his eyes red and skin chapped from all the havoc his sorrow has wrecked. 

“I’m here,” Renjun says, simply. Another truth. A fact.

Donghyuck inhales shakily, a brittle sound rattling with the effort of a calmness he does not possess.

He breathes in again; once, twice.

And then he is silent.

_Hólmavík, Iceland_

He’s not better, that’s for sure, but recovery is a long journey. 

It’s slowly, but surely happening. Some days, Donghyuck will roll over when morning comes and adamantly refuse to surface from his blanket cocoon, staying in bed all day. Renjun peeks into his bedroom from time to time to check on him and sees the other staring out the window, eyes faraway and glistening, and shuts the door quietly behind himself as he leaves Donghyuck alone with his thoughts.

Some days, Donghyuck doesn’t even get up. Renjun almost struggles to obtain blood for the both of them, because while they only need a little to survive, the blood banks around don’t take very kindly to him asking for two vampires’ worth every time he frequents.

To hide their location, to be as far from civilization and in as remote a place as possible, Renjun had located them to a town in the west, possibly as far removed as it could get. They had never lived in a city with a population below 100,000 to be frank. 

There’s a first for everything.

And to make matters worse, the city had a history of believing in witchcraft and sorcery. It would not do well to dwell here long, but for the same reason, Renjun had temporarily hid them here, to give them time to recuperate, to give Donghyuck time to heal.

Today is a good day. He emerges, unearthing himself from his mound of covers, and ventures outside the little bubble world he created for himself. He makes coffee, brushes his teeth, makes the effort to look presentable and tame his monster of a bed head.

They’re sitting at the small island in the kitchen, Renjun standing and leaning against the counter, trying (and failing) to discreetly glance at Donghyuck, who has his hands around the steaming mug and is staring into its dark depths as if it holds all the answers to the questions of the universe. They sit in silence, in companionship, in understanding.

And then Donghyuck looks up and says, “Let’s go.”

Renjun would’ve asked, “Go where?” under any other circumstance, but staring into Donghyuck’s face, at the determination tinged with slight desperation, Renjun understands the subscript: _Anywhere but here. Please._

_Alaska, United States_

Renjun had wanted to go to Norway, which was much, much closer and would be a far shorter trip, but one look at Donghyuck’s ashen face and the silent plea in his eyes, the desperate clutch he had on Renjun’s arm when he uttered the softest of “no”s had silenced any of his will to talk Donghyuck over.

So the two of them are in Alaska, in the one state that has climate as bitterly cold as Northern Canada, and resembles the picture perfect image of what everyone believes the country to look like. If igloos suddenly popped up everywhere, nobody would bat an eye.

Alaska really is something.

“I want to see another sunrise,” Donghyuck whispers one morning, his voice croaky from disuse, his eyes timid and still tired, but they’ve never looked more sure.

Renjun considers him. 

“How about I show you something better?”

🌅

According to the lady who works as the receptionist at their inn, they are lucky. Some people come on their vacations, planned months in advance, and still miss the Aurora borealis. Apparently the skies are clear tonight, and if the time is right, if the stars align, the belt should be in plain sight.

They settle down into their borrowed beach chairs, tumblers filled with steaming hot chocolate provided by their kindly lodging host, fire-making tools at the ready. Their little bonfire roars at their feet, sending sparks flying and allowing the barest of warmth to seep through their thick layers into their shins.

And they wait.

“Renjun,” Donghyuck whispers.

He hums in response, not wanting to break the silence that settles like a blanket over them, comforting and vulnerable in its openness. No judgement, no criticism.

“Thank you.”

He turns to look at the boy next to him, who has his gaze resolutely fixed on the far horizon, who looks like he still wishes he were somewhere else he knows he cannot be. The look of a drowning man who once loved the sea.

Who still yearns for the sea and would turn his mast and set sail at the first break of light even if it nearly killed him to do so.

And Renjun, his faithful crew who would follow him to the depths of the sea and back, even if it meant entombing himself with the rest of the ship. 

“What for?”

He doesn’t answer, face still turned away, the leaping tongues of flame casting eerie shadows across his face. Then he turns, a sad but genuine smile on his face.

“For saving my life? For not leaving?”

He pauses, eyes searching for an answer in Renjun’s face before he looks straight into his eyes.

“For staying, in spite of. For protecting, despite.”

Renjun turns to look at Donghyuck, the sadness in his eyes which have long since found a permanent home slowly fading away. It seems it has become a tenant rather than the owner instead, and the corners of Donghyuck’s lips slowly curve up into something that might be a smile.

It’s nothing like the brilliance of the ones he used to possess, but it’s something. 

“You don’t need to thank me for that,” Renjun answers, a rare bravery fluttering its wings in his chest. “I would, even if you didn’t ask it of me.”

Overhead, beams of light dance across the sky, ribbons of blue, green, purple intertwining in a swirling, spinning spectacle that fills the entire night tapestry. 

It’s beautiful.

“Did you know that the Inuit used to believe these lights carried the souls of their loved ones that passed on?” Renjun speaks, eyes trained on the floating colors that blend in a sight so breathtaking he again feels insignificant and small in comparison.

Donghyuck shakes his head, gaze also fixed to the sky.

“I didn’t either. Brother Bear told me that.”

The ensuing silence is deafening, almost insulting. 

Renjun peeks down tentatively, a bit worried about Donghyuck’s lack of reaction. Donghyuck looks back, mouth parted, eyes holding nothing but confusion.

But then he laughs, more a puff of air than sound, and shifts further into Renjun’s space.

The two of them nurse their tumblers of hot chocolate, leaning into each other to share warmth.

And under a ceiling made of the returning souls visiting the earth, of the heaven’s beauty, the release of photons, whichever reality one chose to live in, Renjun delights in that sound more than anything else.

It’s something.

_Sorrento, Italy_

It’s summer.

Seasons come and go in the blink of an eye, Renjun finds. Ironically, humans say it all the time, too. 

But when you’re immortal, it really does feel like a year passes in the span of a day.

It was Donghyuck’s idea to return to Europe; Renjun had immediately protested, shutting down the idea, but Donghyuck had something about picking himself up where he fell, and Renjun had conceded, albeit begrudgingly.

They drive along with the windows rolled down, wind in their hair, music turned up so loud Renjun can feel the bass vibrations thrumming underneath through the soles of his feet.

Donghyuck had won the game of rock-paper-scissors — both times — so he got to both pick the music and drive the car, an old rented Cadillac. It was one of the last cars left in the dealership, and the owner had reluctantly handed them the keys, the endearing unwillingness to part with it clear in his eyes. Its weather-worn leather is soft to the touch, but they both had to lay down a stack of newspapers on their seat to avoid burning their skin clean off, hot to the touch, a scathing temperature that left them both hissing in displeasure.

Donghyuck hums along to the soundtrack, phone wired to the stereo with a cord since the car does not come from an age that equips Bluetooth. His fingers drum on the steering wheel, his head nodding in time with the beat. 

The backdrop of magnificent, sapphire blue, tousled with vibrant emeralds and cliffs dusted in gold are truly breath-taking. Renjun almost stops staring at Donghyuck for a second to admire the sea-side town in all its glory.

Almost.

Donghyuck looks at ease here, seeming to glow happier, brighter. As if a sunflower out in the sun, emanating its own brilliance as it turns towards the light.

They make their way around the winding mountain road, climbing higher and higher up towards the villa Donghyuck had excitedly told Renjun about, insisting that they had to come here.

The pamphlets offered by the visitor centre had been adorned with vivid images of sandy yellow cliffs complete with green forestry, glistening blue seas sparkling in the sun, and the center of attention: the little pastel covered houses jutting out from the side of the mountain, as if it had grown out along with the nature itself. The rainbow of colors exuded by the whole front page, no doubt oversaturated from the editing, had still managed to be breathtaking. A fool would pass up the opportunity to see it with their own eyes, Donghyuck had said.

They park their car at a makeshift lot at the edge of the town’s highest level. Donghyuck drives into a free spot swiftly, and they climb out to gaze out over the villa. The buildings staircase down, like a steep step ladder carved into the side of the stone. 

They spend the afternoon leisurely, strolling through the cobble-stone streets canopied with arching vines that crawl over wooden gateways. Golden sunlight spills between the gaps, turning everything they touch warm with light. 

Donghyuck pulls him this way and that, taking pictures with every sight that sets his eyes alight with wonder or elicits awe. 

They break for the day when the sun is high in the sky, the afternoon sun setting the sea on fire, the surface glittering like diamonds, the heat causing the humans around them to complain and seek reprieve in the shade. 

They find themselves in a homey little shop that sells textiles and fabrics, browsing through the items set up on display; a dress, curtains, bedsheets, all made of handcrafted material that flows through their fingers, light as a feather.

The store is manned by a woman who cradles a baby in her arms, and she smiles warmly at them when they duck their heads in from where she is seated by a table at the back. 

Donghyuck’s eyes light up and he makes a beeline for the back of the store as soon as he spots the woman, and Renjun can only follow behind, shaking his head fondly.

Donghyuck gazes at the baby with eyes full of tender wonder, and reaches out a hand tentatively, glancing at the mother for her approval. She nods, smile growing, and stands up to step closer to the two of them, rocking the baby gently in her arms.

The baby makes a cooing, curious sound and reaches out a chubby hand to grasp at Donghyuck’s index finger.

Donghyuck’s staring at the child’s hand, so small in comparison to his one finger, shell-shocked. He turns his gaze from the tiny fingers to the child’s face, so open and trusting, devoid of fear. The child beams, opening her mouth, drool dribbling from the corner onto her chin. Her mouth opens widely and her eyes curve. It’s a smile, undoubtedly.

 _“She likes you,”_ the mother laughs, eyes crinkling warmly at them as she bounces the baby gently on her hip. 

Donghyuck suddenly looks like he wants to cry. His face crumples, a brief moment of vulnerability in the face of one of the purest forms of human kindness. The child’s hand is fragile and defenseless in his, yet Donghyuck curls his finger back around her fingers, gripping back as if it were the only lifeline keeping him tethered. 

He smiles back at her, and everything about it is warm, fond. Renjun’s heart tightens at the sight.

How long had it been since he’d last seen that smile?

“Put your hand down and back away from her!”

A shout echoes through the small shop, ricocheting off the walls as loud as gunfire, and the baby shrieks, face crumpling into herself as she starts crying loudly. The mother steps back, shaken by the noise, and brings the baby closer to her chest, her face confused and frightened. Donghyuck’s face is dismayed, not raising his head in the direction of the voice, his first instinct to bring his other hand around to try to soothe the distressed child.

A gunshot rings out. A real one. 

“Step away! _Now!”_

Renjun sees the moment Donghyuck’s confusion clears to angry retaliation, the minute he registers the voice to be directed at him, and the way he turns away, making to push the mother and the baby behind his back -

But Renjun’s already seen the sight that awaits him, and he springs forward, leaping to stand in front of Donghyuck, hoping to bolt all the doors and the windows that let in all the ugliness in the world.

Donghyuck’s always been taller than him. He’s always had the clearer foresight.

So despite Renjun’s efforts to tug him away and grip at his face, Donghyuck stares straight ahead at a man who stands in the entrance to the small store. 

Renjun, helpless and unable to do anything, can only watch in despair as Donghyuck’s face morphs from one of utter rage to uncontrollable anguish, before he wrestles with it furiously into an apathetic, blank mask. 

Renjun already knows who it is.

“Well, well, what do we have here? A fearsome vampire, luring in a mother and her child with his empty, sweet promises, just waiting for the chance to sink his fangs into them.”

Renjun’s never felt hate and rage as what boils underneath his skin, threatening to well over and scathe everything in its path. Consequences be damned, he wants to rip out the throat of the owner of that voice.

“Mark,” Donghyuck speaks, voice surprisingly steady despite the tremor in the hand he has around Renjun’s wrist, gripping so tightly his nails dig into his skin. 

Mark’s lip curls in distaste, spitting out, “You don’t deserve to say my name, demon.” 

Renjun turns around with a snarl, hands spread to the sides as he tries to push back against Donghyuck, who is shaking with anger, sadness, but even still, Renjun can sense, in the way his fingers flex and unclench against his shoulders, in the tension in his body, that Donghyuck is about to bolt. Whether towards or away from the headlights bearing down them, Renjun doesn’t know, but he’s not about to wait around to find out. 

“Jun,” Mark sighs out. “If that is even your real name. I wouldn’t hurt you if you were just a poor, blind person who’s been deceived by the alluring, enchanting charm of this dangerous vampire, but alas.” He shakes his head in mock disappointment. “I have a hard time believing that you’re not of the same side. I don’t doubt you’re not friend, but foe.” 

“I wouldn’t want to be friends with anyone of the likes of you,” he hisses, uncaring that he is painting the exact image of the horrid creatures Mark makes of their kind. The possessive, almost borderline feral way that he arches his back, like a wild animal preparing to hunt, the way he raises his hackles and draws back his lips to bare his fangs. 

He’s prepared to defend what belongs to him.

“I didn’t think so,” Mark breathes out, eyes gazing at him with a twinge of something like pity in those pale, empty eyes. “No, I don’t think it’d be possible for us to become friends in the first place.” 

“You think you’re instilling some sense of justice? You think you’re doing the world a big favor?” Renjun growls, feeling the burning, hot sensation spread to every nerve in his body and set it alight. “Humans are the ones who hurt and kill each other. We want nothing to do with your business.”

“Renjun.”

At the sound of Donghyuck’s voice, Renjun turns his head, eyes flickering between him and Mark. Donghyuck raises a hand and sets it on his shoulder, surprisingly firm.

“Let me.”

“But —”

“This is my own mess. Please.”

Renjun finally moves his gaze to look at Donghyuck, desperately willing him to back down, to let it go. He’d seen Donghyuck destroy himself time and time again, and now that he had healed, he didn’t want all his attempts to try to rebuild the walls of his fortress to be in vain, only for them to crumble like ash in the hands of this man. He wasn’t going to let Donghyuck suffer again. Not like this.

Donghyuck’s eyes are clear and filled with a ferocity Renjun has not seen in a long time. It looks like one time they walked through Paris’s streets and Donghyuck had gripped Renjun hand, hard enough for a human hand to break, as he sped them past a mother shielding her half-blood child from the ravenous, seething crowd. Donghyuck’s eyes had blazed with hellfire, an inferno that could not be quashed by any force of nature.

Renjun feels Donghyuck’s hand drop from his shoulder, moving instead to his hand, giving it a light squeeze before he maneuvers himself from behind Renjun and steps forward. Renjun hopelessly wants to hold onto Donghyuck’s hand and never let go, but Donghyuck drops his as he continues striding forward, eyes never wavering from Mark’s. 

He doesn’t tremble or halt at the gun that Mark points straight at his forehead, and Renjun holds his breath as he stops in front of him. 

“This is between you and me,” Donghyuck spits. “Don’t drag other people into this.”

“Oh, Donghyuck,” Mark sighs, a degrading sort of pity in his voice. His eyes glint in a twisted sense of amusement, and Renjun feels sick to his stomach. “You delusional, poor soul.”

He stops, placing a finger to his chin. “Pardon me, wrong term. Do you even have one?”

Renjun would have lunged if Donghyuck didn’t put up a hand behind his back, signaling him to stay back.

“I don’t care what you think of our kind,” Donghyuck grits out. “I just can’t comprehend you setting up this whole fiasco, going so far as to _pretend_ that we were in a relationship, convincing me —” he cuts himself off with an intake of breath. “You hurt me and the people I care about.” Renjun’s heart thuds painfully in his chest. 

“That is unacceptable.”

Mark’s eyes glint, a sadistic sort of cold fury that sings promises of bloodshed. “There was nothing between us to begin with. It’s not my fault you were stupid enough to believe it.” 

Donghyuck’s strong, resolute front wavers, flickering in and out of focus, and Renjun feels with a sinking sort of certainty, his resolve fade. He might have seemed fine, but this wounded him more than a couple months could give him.

“Did you ever - was any of it ever real for you?” 

Donghyuck’s voice sounds like a plea, on the verge of breaking, and Renjun almost wants to turn away at the vulnerability. His hands ache to reach out to Donghyuck, to pull him back to him and comfort him. But he knows that Donghyuck needs to hear this answer, if he is to decide to move forwards, or to remain stuck in the past.

“Was it ever real for me?” Mark laughs, the sound mocking and disbelieving.

“The only thing that was real was my burning, undying desire to put a bullet through your heart.”

And all of a sudden, Mark snaps to attention, levelling the barrel of his gun straight at him, and all Renjun sees is Mark’s hate-filled, baleful eyes. “Goodbye, monster.” 

As if in slow motion, Renjun watches as Mark’s hand tenses, sees the steely determination in his eyes, and knows without a doubt that the next bullet would hit true. It would not miss.

He moves faster than he can comprehend, every instinct driving him to push himself forward, to make it in time —

The sound of the gunshot echoes through the entire room, the unmistakable sound of a bullet carving through the air and finding home in flesh. 

The woman screams, curving her body over her baby, to protect, to shield it from the violence and ugliness manifesting around them. 

Renjun crumples to the ground, pain blooming from every nerve ending. The space between his ribs, right underneath the left side of his chest is blazing with a sharp, hot pain he has never felt before.

He barely clings to consciousness, breathing shallowly as he lies on his side. He hears shouts and guttural snarls, gunshots, the sound of tearing flesh. 

Then he feels hands fluttering over his body, light, anxious, desperate. He blinks his eyes open, dazed, and sees Donghyuck gazing down at him with devastation in his eyes.

“Renjun, stay with me, please,” Donghyuck sounds borderline hysterical, his pleas becoming more frantic, his eyes welling with tears. _Don’t cry, Donghyuck._ He wants to say, but he finds that his mouth is filled with the metallic tang of blood, and he coughs, choking on it.

He looks up at Donghyuck, at the stark pain, despair, and hopelessness bleed over in his face and immediately wants to erase it. Those are emotions that have no right being on the face of someone who should only know the light, only know the warmth of being loved. He tries to muster up the strength to squeeze his hand, to smile back, to convey anything, but he feels his consciousness slipping away.

The fight to stay awake is a losing battle. As his eyes flutter closed, before the darkness swallows him whole, he hears a broken whisper.

_“I’m sorry.”_

🌅 

Renjun wakes in a white room, with a white ceiling and white walls. 

He isn’t sure what he’s staring at, vision fuzzy with confusion and aches permeating every inch of his body.

_“I’m sorry.”_

He jolts awake, panic causing him to spring upright, immediately aggravating the wound in his side, pulling a grimace. 

“You’re awake,” a voice speaks, and Renjun startles, nearly jumping out of his skin.

He is extremely vulnerable and weak right now. He’d be no match if this person meant him harm.

Even still, it doesn’t stop him from glaring at the source of the voice, hoping the force of his gaze is enough to intimidate and ward off any incoming threat.

Instead, he’s met with an amused smile belonging to a man with shockingly pink hair, like the hue of cotton candy. The man is sitting a safe distance away, hands between his legs, leaning forward on his stool. He wears a white coat, a stethoscope hanging around his neck, curiosity in his eyes. 

“How are you feeling, Renjun?”

Renjun feels a defensive wariness build within him. “How do you know my name? Who are _you?_ ”

“Is that important?” The man deflects, smile never fading even as he waves a hand dismissively. “I asked you a question first. If you answer, I’ll consider answering yours.” His grin grows even wider, if that was even possible, taking on a tinge of smugness.

Before Renjun can consider his options (one of which involved lunging at this person and placing his hands around his neck), another man walks in, cuffing the pink-haired man over the head with his clipboard. It must have hurt, because the black-haired man clearly did not spare any mercy when he smacked his clipboard straight down, judging by the sound.

“Jaemin, can you not make it a habit to be a prick to every patient we take in?”

“He needs a new pastime,” another voice chirps. Renjun’s head swivels around to his other side, spotting another young man sitting in the corner of the room by a desk. He hadn’t noticed his presence before.

“You guys are no fun,” Jaemin huffs. “I was just getting acquainted!”

“Yeah, more like terrorizing. Your call,” the man in the corner mutters. Renjun immediately trusts him a little more.

The man with the clipboard walks closer, and while Renjun doesn’t sense any form of animosity or ill will from him, he has just woken up and has no idea where he is, so he instinctively tenses. The man seems to recognize that and stops a meter away, respecting the space. He smiles, an unarming curve of his mouth that sends his eyes crinkling in a similar fashion.

“Hi, I’m Jeno. You’re currently at a hospital of a sort for our kind. We treat and heal vampires and other supernatural beings.” 

_Jeno._ Renjun thinks, turning the name over in his head. _A hospital?_

Suddenly, it dawns on him. A pure, unadulterated fear roars through him and he almost leaps from the bed if it weren’t for the wires tangled around his arms and chest. 

“Donghyuck,” Renjun gasps between shallow breaths. “The other vampire with me, he has reddish-brown hair, light brown skin, where is he-”

“Calm down, Renjun,” Jeno answers instead of replying, holding his hands up in a placating manner. “Donghyuck is fine. He’s the one who brought you in, actually.”

Renjun settles back slightly, body still ready to spring into action. He shouldn’t trust these people so easily, but he doesn’t have a choice right now. He’s at their mercy.

“Can I see him, then?” He inquires, short and clipped. “Where is he right now?”

He sees Jeno and Jaemin exchange a glance, something passing between the two of them. They seem to be caught in a limbo, communicating wordlessly through stares. They don’t seem to be in agreement, and Renjun is just about fed up with waiting when the third man in the room walks forward, lifting something in his hand.

An envelope.

As he nears, Renjun sees his name on the front, and his breath catches. That is Donghyuck’s loopy, round writing. He would recognize it anywhere.

The man stops at the foot of his bed, eyes inscrutable. When he speaks, it’s only a few words, but it sends Renjun’s heart soaring and falling in tandem.

“He’s gone. He left you this.”

He hands Renjun the letter and Renjun all but snatches it from his hands, tearing open the envelope with no regard. He pulls out a slip of paper, torn and crumpled, and makes out a short, brief message.

_Thank you, for everything._

_\- Donghyuck_

🌅

Renjun tries to find Donghyuck. He really does.

He retraces their steps, frantically searching in every corner and crevice of all the places they’ve been. He passes mountains and cliffs, blurring rainbow houses seemingly embedded in each of them. He passes glittering lights, cities gleaming and alive in the dark of night. He passes snow-filled villages, steam curling into misty tendrils even in frigid air. He passes hills and fields of rolling green. He sees sunsets and sunrises, but he doesn’t catch sight of the sun.

_Tokyo, Japan_

It’s been one year, five months, and thirteen days since he last saw Donghyuck.

He hasn’t heard from Donghyuck since they separated. He lost count of the number of times he had picked up his phone to thumb in the phone number ingrained in his brain before thinking better of it and tossing his phone away. How many phone booths he’s stayed in, quarter upon quarter fed into the machine, only to hang up at the last number he punched in, staring into the void with the dial tone droning on in the back. 

For how much he wanted to see Tokyo, the lights seem dull; even the over-saturated brightness of the neon signage of the city night seem to be tinged dark at the edges, like someone had upped the shadows and plunged the world into a blue filter. 

He watches a couple pull each other along, hand in hand, a girl tugging her girlfriend along with a bright smile, pointing and giggling while the other follows, shaking their head but not without a fond smile curling over their face. 

He turns away before the pain reaches his heart.

He checks into a hotel for the night, barely uttering an exhausted greeting to the receptionist before he’s stumbling into the elevator to go upstairs.

As soon as he unlocks his door, he staggers the distance to the bed and collapses onto it, feeling the exhaustion weighing his bones dragging him down. 

He lies on his back, fingers curling and unfurling in the sheets, watching the moonlight spill through his fingers. The blinds cast stripes across the bed, blue and gray on canvas, a starry night on the covers.

He turns, sighing to himself. Buries his face into his pillow, delving under the covers where the light can’t reach. 

Maybe if he suffocated here and now, his heart would no longer have to feel like an aching, bleeding thing, dull pain seeping into every crevice of his being, settling in his bones and filling up his lungs. 

Maybe Donghyuck would return tomorrow morning to his cold, unbreathing body. 

Except Donghyuck wasn't going to return. Not now. Not tomorrow morning. Maybe not ever.

🌅

Tonight, he’s out for some air, breaking away from the suffocating silence of his own room to roam outside Tokyo. 

The vibrant red lanterns fill the street with their light, casting a warm glow over all the chatting passersby. Renjun stops at a booth teeming with children, all clambering over each other to reach the wooden basin filled with fish.

Using nets, they scoop wildly into the tub, water splashing everywhere. The younger kids shriek in surprise as the stray droplets land on their sleeves and faces, while the older kids step back, shaking their heads in a resigned shade of fondness. 

He watches their squealing, overwhelming joy and delight with a detached sort of fondness. How simple it must be, he thinks to himself, to be able to find joy in such small delights. 

He thinks of a glowing, colorful board, of giggling in delight as it spun him around; of reaching with small, chubby hands to the sky to grasp at the endless blue; of a soft, white, fluffy toy and the comfort it would bring in the dark of night. He shakes his head, the sudden vivid imagery dissolving back into the dusty corners of his mind. 

He wanders through the streets, making his way past numerous booths, each bustling and swarming with crowds of villagers. There’s fresh mochi being made, enthusiastic, vigorous shouts in time with the rhythmic pounding of wooden mallets. There is the sizzling of tempura, takoyaki, and other timeless favorites being fried to crispy perfection, accompanied by the mouthwatering aroma of refined recipes passed down from generations. Family-run booths with chefs barking orders, hands passing fresh ingredients and knives blurring at astonishing speeds, piping hot dishes greeted with cheerful, excited shouts of customers. 

He makes his way past all of them, smiling politely at the ladies clothed in brightly-colored kimonos, holding trays of samples and calling out to strolling visitors to welcome them into their booth. 

He arrives at a bonfire lit up in the center of the village, graced with the sight of leaping flames and the perpetual crackle of firewood. There is a gathering of people around the edges of the clearing, all dressed in beautiful, brightly patterned kimonos of different styles. They make a loose circle around the bonfire, where a masked man was performing a dance with wide sweeping movements and a grace and poise that spoke of years of practice, so much so that the movements were ingrained in his very bones.

“ _Satokagura_ ,” he whispers to himself. _A dance to the gods._

Age-old traditions that were once borne from deeply rooted beliefs, as deep as the family trees that communities used to be made solely of once upon a time. Watching the tireless way the man danced, the flow that extended outside his body, giving him an aura that seemed like he could dance forever, Renjun thinks back to the conversation he and Donghyuck had, now seemingly so long ago.

_“What do we have to cling to in this world, if not companionship? If not connection? If not something, anything, that unites us?”_

He suddenly knows what Donghyuck meant. Recognizes the deep, aching emptiness that seems to resonate with every echo in the chambers of his heart as loneliness. A need for companionship. A yearning for connection.

He breaks from the crowd, heading for the dirt path that leads out of the village, out of this safe haven created by these humans. 

He is an intruder, an imposter. He doesn’t belong here. He doesn’t have the privilege of witnessing something as sacred and precious as this.

But before he leaves, he feels something bump into his shin. Looking down, there is a colorful ball that has rolled to a stop beside his foot after colliding with him. 

He looks up uncertainly, glancing around for the owner. He doesn’t spot him at first, but a child suddenly breaks away from a gap in the crowds and runs to him, the sleeves of his deep blue kimono flapping behind him in his haste.

The child skids to a stop in front of him and stares up at him, putting on a brave front over the nervousness still plainly visible in his face. 

He tries his best to soften his face, to muster a smile he doesn’t have the happiness to express. “Is this yours?”

The child stares back wordlessly, cocking his head to the side.

He crouches down, putting himself at eye level and fishes for the right words to piece together a sentence in his long-forgotten Japanese. _“Did you lose something?”_

The child’s eyes widen, a flash of surprise. He parrots back at him, _“Did you lose something?”_

It’s Renjun’s turn to be speechless. 

_Did you lose something?_

“I,” Renjun stammers, heartbeat thundering like footsteps on the worn, trampled ground of his heart. He doesn’t register the child’s confusion when he switches away from Japanese, mind racing. 

_Did you?_

He thinks of sunshine, of tousled hair set afire by the rays; of gleaming teeth, flashing even in the dark of night; of the feel of a hand in his, the warmth transferring through his palms, his fingers, his veins. 

He thinks of a boy whose presence made the world feel alive with something. 

_“I did,”_ he responds, softly, at last. 

The boy blinks, then breaks into a sweet smile. _“I lost something too, nee-san.”_

He laughs, blinking tears he didn’t know were there out of his vision, and brings the ball from behind his ankles into his hands, offering it to the boy. _“I believe this belongs to you.”_

The boy claps in delight, reaching his hands out to receive the ball from Renjun’s hands. _“Thank you!”_

He makes to turn, but hesitates, and faces Renjun again fully before he leaves. 

Renjun waits, still in his crouched position, and brings his hand up to wave at the boy, only to witness a sort of conviction and determination to come over his face, startling on a face as young as his. 

_“Nee-san,”_ the boy says, a smile never leaving his face, _“I think you’ll find what you lost too. Good luck!”_

And with a wave, the boy turns around, running back the way he came, and disappears into the crowd.

Renjun doesn’t move for a while after that, allowing the words to sink in. He glances at the moon, full and bright on a clear night like today, and sends a wish to whichever generous star may be listening tonight. 

_Donghyuck, wherever you are, I hope you are well._

And selfishly, tacks on a bit for himself.

_I hope I can see you again._

He gets up, dusting off his knees and pulls out his wallet. Stops by the donation box placed next to the bonfire and places all the bills he has into it. 

The picture in his wallet catches his eye. 

It was taken in Paris, a polaroid of the two of them smiling with a Ferris wheel lit up in the back. 

He pulls the picture out, hesitating. Staring a bit longer, reliving the moment. Brushes his thumb over Donghyuck’s smiling face.

He tosses it into the flame, and doesn’t look back.

And because it’s been one year, five months, and thirteen days too long, he works up his courage and he goes to the one place he didn’t dare return to.

He goes home.

_Seoul, Korea_

Call him a romantic, call him sentimental, but Renjun pauses outside the entrance, eyeing the booth that sells lockets to couples visiting Namsan Tower. Before he allows himself to give it a second thought, he lets his feet carry him over to the booth.

There’s no one up on the tower at this time except for a lingering couple who are taking photos. He sees the guy wrap an arm around his girlfriend, gently towing her away, chastising her for wearing so little in such cold weather. It coaxes a smile out of him.

He stays long after sunset, long after the blush pink and stained lavender of the sky darkens into bluish bruises that herald the night. He stays as all the streetlights below him of the city flicker on after dusk, when the sky becomes a void of darkness and the stars are too far away for him to see their twinkle.

He unearths the two lockets he’s purchased from his pocket and stares. Wonders what he’s doing, all alone, on a cold and dark night such as this one with a promise that he’s made to no one, one that he is not able to keep.

Someone else’s shoulder collides with his, a flash of pain shooting up his arm. His hand slackens, the twin locks crashing into the floor with a thud. The person continues walking, not bothering to apologize, and Renjun isn’t really in the mood to be looking for a fight, so he lets it go, bending down to pick them up.

He is searching for the locks, fumbling around in the darkness, cursing under his breath as he feels around on the ground.

Then, feet appear in his field of view, a pair of scuffed black Vans. 

“Hello, stranger. Need some light?” 

“No, that won’t be necessary -” Renjun whirls around, irritated. If it wasn’t an apology being offered, Renjun couldn’t be bothered to entertain this belated consideration.

He looks up angrily, only to stop and stare, words stuck in his throat. 

He can’t believe his eyes. 

It’s Donghyuck, who he hasn’t seen in almost two years.

Donghyuck, who looks as beautiful as ever. More tired, face more weary, but -

“I don’t believe I got your name,” he says, voice wobbly. But his eyes are clearer and brighter than ever, and Renjun would be lying if he said he had any time for his brain to catch up to his body before he is up on his feet quicker than the speed of light, throwing himself at the other.

And it’s like the world stops moving for one moment, time standing still. He feels like his feet have finally touched ground for the first time in years, a ship docking to shore after years of being lost out at sea. 

“I found you,” he mutters, over and over, breathing in the scent of pine, faint note of cinnamon, and - oh, has Donghyuck changed his shampoo? - strawberry. “I found what I lost.” 

Donghyuck laughs, a sound wet and full of tears, before he draws back. “I think it’s more correct to say I found you.”

Renjun is too busy trying to prevent the tears from welling up in his own eyes that he doesn’t notice Donghyuck’s attempts to get him to look at him. It’s only when he feels gentle hands on his cheeks, thumbs brushing away stray tears that he looks up, and he’s hit in the face with the immense longing that had built up over two years.

He stares at the features that he’d missed so much, so much that he’d dreamt of them time and time again. 

Every time he would reach out to touch the face that he had wanted to see more than anything else, he would be met with cold air, and he would jolt awake, the emptiness of the physical world in the grasp of his hand, in the bed beside him, in his hollow heart, reminding him time and time again of what he had lost.

This time, when he stretches out his fingers, he is met with wonder when they brush against soft skin. 

And suddenly, the joy, the relief of crashing against shore is met with splintering pain and overwhelming sorrow. He curls his fingers in the collar of Donghyuck’s shirt, tugging him in closer, but not to embrace him. 

“Why did you take so long?” Renjun cries out, eyes closing with the force of keeping the floodgates closed. “Do you have any idea how hard it’s been, trying to find you this past year?” 

Donghyuck remains silent. Slowly, his hands come up from his sides to settle around Renjun’s waist. He takes in the relentless emotion Renjun pours out into his chest, thumbs rubbing soothing circles into his skin. 

Once Renjun’s exhausted his tears, he breathes out with a sigh, feeling the exhaustion leave his body with a shuddering exhale. He wipes at his eyes hastily, and finds his hands stopped by another pair of warm ones.

His eyes meet with ones filled with sorrow, with guilt. 

“I’m sorry,” Donghyuck breathes, his eyes glimmering with unshed tears of his own. “I know an apology won’t bring anything back. But I needed time.”

“I would have waited forever,” Renjun confesses, throat closing up with the thickness of his emotion, and his voice comes out hoarse. 

“I’m glad it didn’t come to that,” Donghyuck laughs, but his eyes still hold sadness, a plea for forgiveness.

“Why did you come back?” 

Renjun can’t help the question slipping from his mouth. He needs to know what this means. If Donghyuck is back and here to stay, because he doesn’t know if he could live through Donghyuck happening to him again only to walk right out.

Donghyuck’s head snaps up and he stares into Renjun’s eyes, gaze unwavering. Renjun knows, whatever words he utters, it will be the anchor to his drifting soul, lost at sea. 

“I never left,” Donghyuck says, gentle but firm, two paradoxes spinning on the edge of a coin. He sounds so sure of himself, as if he speaks of the oxygen their lungs need to survive, of the inevitability of time, of two parallel lines running alongside, never meeting. 

“I just had to make sure,” Donghyuck steps further into his space, eyes searching his, a quiet question of if it was okay to do so. “I didn’t know how I was supposed to love you when I didn’t even know how to love myself.” 

Renjun inhales sharply, the oxygen rushing through his veins in an exhilaration that burns with a frenzy. He feels like a white dwarf, expanding and expanding into the space around him, greedily consuming more until he could implode.

“I’d have loved you enough for the both of us,” he whispers. “You were never supposed to know.” 

Donghyuck shakes his head, earnest. “If not you, if not for -” here Donghyuck catches himself, grimacing, “if not for Paris, I still would have found out, sooner or later.”

“How can you be so sure?” Renjun chuckles, not quite amused but wearily doubtful. “I’d have taken it to the grave.”

“I think I always knew,” Donghyuck murmurs back, eyes closing before he angles his head back and looks to the heavens. Renjun’s heart crashes against the boulders, painfully tight. “I always knew it’d be you, from the start.” 

He tips his face down to meet Renjun’s gaze, steps into his gravity and allows the force to bring them closer together, a wave kissing the shore.

“Our kind don’t do well with things that aren’t constant,” Donghyuck breathes, an echo of the words Renjun spoke to him from so long ago. 

Renjun waits, not daring to breathe. 

When the silence stretches on, the both of them staring unflinchingly into each other’s eyes, neither looking away, Renjun speaks.

“Good thing I’ll be around for the next hundred centuries or so, then.” He pauses, searching the other’s eyes for any hint of hesitation.

“No,” at which Renjun feels his heart dropping quicker than stone, “good thing you’ve been a constant in my life since forever.” 

And Renjun laughs, loud and open, the sound abruptly startling itself out of his throat. The relief crashing over him is unreal, drowning him in its wake. But there is something else, too. 

“Will you let me be the home you come back to?” Renjun whispers, eyes gleaming with unshed tears. 

Renjun looks and looks and looks, and sees the boy he loves looking back. For once, he’s not afraid to be vulnerable. And he steps forward, unafraid to fall.

“Only if you’ll let me be yours, too.”

**Author's Note:**

> or: the globe-trotting au that no one ever asked for
> 
> thank you for making it to the end if you got this far! this was just an excuse to write my favorite boys into all the places in the world i want to go. i hope i take you there with them on this journey and you get to see them, too. :D
> 
> disclaimer: bare minimum research was done on these places. i hope i did not offend.


End file.
